A Leap of Faith
by Theodore Hawkwood
Summary: Assistant District Attorney Rachel Dawes was murdered during the movie 'The Dark Knight', but what if that was not the end of the story for her? What if she were brought back to life by an experiment by Valmont two months after her death? Three years after the series finale of the Jackie Chan Adventures the J-Team and Section 13 must deal with the Dark Hand once again.
1. Prologue: Awakenings

Prologue: Awakening

Author's Note: A plot bunny struck me the other day and I wondered what a crossover of The Dark Knight and the Jackie Chan Adventures series would look like.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jackie Chan Adventures or The Dark Knight. The characters of _Capitaine_ Arnot D'Artagnan, _Caporal_ Gilbert Brossard, and _Sergent_ Andre Delage are my creation.

* * *

 **Yucatan Peninsula  
** **Caribbean Coast of Mexico  
** **1 September 2008**

Rachel Dawes was dead.

The first thing Rachel Dawes saw when her eyes opened was a circle of bright light. Blinking didn't relieve the light's intensity. The first thing she said was more reflexive than anything else. She didn't know why, but it seemed urgent, like it just _**had**_ to be said.

"Harvey, somewhere we'll be together again."

"Somehow I doubt that, Ms. Dawes," a calm and cool voice replied.

 _Who is that?_

"Alfred?" Rachel said, blinking her eyes rapidly. _Cold. My back feels so cold…_

"I'm sorry." The voice had an English accent. "But I'm afraid none of us answers to the name Alfred."

Under the thin sheet covering her body Rachel could feel cold metal underneath her bare backside.

"Wh-where am I?" Rachel asked.

"A laboratory, Ms. Dawes," the Englishman said.

"A what?" Rachel said, sitting up, forgetting that she was naked underneath the sheet. And that the sheet slid nearly halfway down her body before she remembered that rather awkward fact.

As soon as she sat up she saw four men in the room. One was a tall man with blue eyes and long, snow white hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a green suit with a black shirt and orange tie. The one standing to his right was a lean Asian man wearing reflective orange sunglasses with black frames with a black leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans. A third fellow with spiky black hair with a bandage over the bridge of his nose, and a slightly rumpled black suit with a white shirt and a red tie. And standing closest to her was a redhaired fellow with long sideburns wearing a '70s white disco suit, pink long-sleeved collared shirt and blue-black shoes.

 _I'm half naked in front of four men!_ Rachel thought, hurriedly grabbing the thin sheet and holding it up to her chest, blushing slightly.

"No need for modesty, Ms. Dawes," the man with the green suit replied.

"Yeah," the redhaired fellow added, "It's not like we didn't get a good eyeful."

Rachel blushed an even deeper shade of red before she managed to regain some sort of mental footing.

"Who are you?" Rachel asked.

The Englishman leaned slightly on his cane, "My name is Valmont. And these three gentlemen here are my associates."

He introduced the Asian in the black leather jacket, the man in the suit, and the disco suited fellow in turn, "Chow. Finn. Ratso."

Shortly after she registered the names of the three 'associates' it all came back to her. Being tied to a chair in a room full of barrels of gasoline. A time bomb ticking down. A radio being the only link between her and Harvey.

 _"I don't want to live without you. Because I do have an answer, and my answer is **yes** …" She shouted, pulling fruitlessly at the ropes._

 _She could hear Harvey's voice tinny over the radio's speaker, "No! No! No! **NO!** Not me...Why are you coming for me!? NO!" _

_A brief pause as she heard the sound of struggling, and Harvey's last shouts, "Rachel! RACHEL!"_

 _"Harvey…"_

 _"No! No! Rachel!"_

 _"Okay," Rachel said with a sob._

 _"No! No!"_

 _Blinking her eyes, a moment of calm, "Harvey, it's okay. It's alright. Listen."_

 _Then the flash. The heat and fire. The shockwave. The thing that a detached and more logical part of Rachel's mind told her was killing her in her last moments…_

"Remembering what happened, are we?" Valmont said with a wry smile, "And wondering how you're lying here, stark naked on a laboratory table no doubt?"

He stepped closer to her lightly pushing the redhaired man to one side. "After all you do remember a tremendous explosion, don't you? And the likelihood that you should be dead?"

Rachel nodded and the Englishman smiled. At that smile she felt her blood turn to ice. _He's looking at me like a hawk about to swoop down on a rabbit._

"Simply put, Ms. Dawes, the explosion _did_ kill you," Valmont began.

"What? Then how…? That's impossible," Rachel replied, stammering. Trying to process what she just heard. But then again her last memory before 'waking up' was a fiery inferno. So Valmont _wasn't_ lying.

"Well, in short let us say a little magic and a little science and leave it at that, shall we?" Valmont replied.

She felt the white hot flash, fire all over her body. Closing her eyes and curling up on her side as she relived her last moment.

"I see your memories of your last moment are certainly intact," Valmont replied, "I would think that reliving the memories of your death would be most vivid. I do think that it'll pass momentarily."

Valmont was right, Rachel felt that burning sensation going away but still was breathing hard for the next few minutes.

Valmont patiently waited till she regained her faculties and with that same damnable smile continued, "I suppose you have questions."

"Well...yes," Rachel replied, "First how did you do it? I died in an explosion…"

"Your body wasn't quite that destroyed, honestly," Valmont replied, "Part of your left arm was destroyed, a large piece of your thigh, maybe your left ear. Of course your skin was charred. But it was nothing that I wasn't able to take care of thanks to a blend of science and a little thing known as magic."

 _Magic? That's impossible._ Rachel thought.

"And I've done the impossible," Valmont said, "I have brought the dead…"

He pointed dramatically at her before continuing, "...back to the land of the living. It was a process that took some time, I admit, but it worked."

Rachel could only stare, almost blankly at Valmont. _This is something out of a science fiction movie or some cheap horror film...but yet I'm here._

Then she felt a rush of joy running through her. _I can see everyone again. Mom, Alfred, Bruce, Harvey…_

And almost as swiftly as the rush of joy came it receded. _I can't go back. I've been gone for months,_ _**if**_ _Valmont is telling the truth. As far as they know I'm dead. I can't just come back as if nothing happened._

Valmont was speaking some more, but none of it registered. With a sigh he said, "Miss Dawes, are you even paying attention? Of course you aren't…"

He leered as he raised one hand and looked at his fingernails, before coolly replying, "I suppose you want to know what's going to become of you?"

Rachel nodded.

"Well it's fairly obvious, you can't go back to Gotham," Valmont replied, "You are going to stay here. After all you are the first person to _ever_ be resurrected from the dead. We have a series of tests to run, et cetera."

"Tests? Are you mad?" Rachel asked, astounded.

"I assure you we are quite sane," Valmont replied.

"But…" Rachel began, before Valmont cut her off.

"I'm afraid, Ms. Dawes, we must bid you goodnight," Valmont replied, "But not before we see to your sleeping arrangements."

His voice took a mocking tone as he indicated a nearby table where a white hospital gown was folded up, "Your wardrobe, milady. Unless, of course, you'd rather sleep in the nude."

With as much dignity as she could muster Rachel wrapped the thin sheet that had been covering her from her collarbone down to her toes around herself and walked towards the table, picking up the hospital gown.

 _I'm going to have to take off the sheet to put on the gown and any way I turn these creeps are going to get an eyeful._ Rachel thought.

Letting the sheet drop she reached over to grab the hospital gown and pulled it on. Tugging at the seams she noticed it stopped just slightly above the point of decency when standing up.

"It appears that one size fits all applies to your garments for the foreseeable future, Ms. Dawes," Valmont said, "Now to your sleeping quarters."

"Put this on," Finn said, handing Rachel a black sleeping blindfold.

Seeing no choice, Rachel complied, and felt herself being led out of the chamber she had awakened in. She could feel what felt like cold stone beneath her feet. She could feel that the thin fabric of the hospital gown did nothing to prevent the chill she felt.

Going down a flight of stairs, around several turns, another flight of stairs, and up a third flight. If they were trying to disorient her they were doing a good job of it. The blindfold was pulled away.

Under harsh electrical lights she could see a small room with a bed and a small bathroom set up. A more academic part of her mind took in the juxtaposition of modern, if sterile looking furniture and bathroom furnishings and stone ruins before Finn shoved her into the room and closed a heavy wooden door behind her.

The sound of a lock being bolted could be heard and the light went out.

"Have a pleasant night's sleep, Ms. Dawes," Valmont said, "We shall talk again in the morning…"

Though the darkness came, sleep was the last thing on Rachel's mind…

* * *

 **Lao Cai Province  
** **North Vietnam  
** **7 May 1956**

"You bastards! You left us here to die! The least you could have done is parachute us some munitions so that we can die fighting as men!" _Caporal_ Gilbert Brossard shouted over the radio handset.

The sounds of the aircraft faded into the distance as _Capitaine_ Arnot D'Artagnan looked away. Mentally he pictured the aircraft fading into an ever smaller spec on the horizon as its twin engines droned on.

"Any word?" Arnot asked.

" _Non mon capitaine!_ " Brossard said angrily.

"Right, let's get out of here," Arnot replied, "The Viet Minh likely got that transmission too."

Two years had passed since Dien Bien Phu had fallen. Two years of hiding in the jungle with Viet Minh hunter-killer teams closing in. Two years of fading radios and dwindling ammunition stocks. Two years since deciding to remain with the T'ai partisans rather than abandoning them to their fate.

Gilbert nodded and hefted his radio and M1 carbine as the small force of fifteen men moved away from the clearing back into the jungle. Shortly after Gilbert and two of the T'ai had begun to move Arnot followed, hefting his own MAT-49 submachine gun. He turned around to see five more of the partisans to bring up the middle of their small column. And a few moments later _Sergent_ Andre Delage took his own M1 carbine in his large hands as he led the trail party.

 _Fifteen men,_ Arnot thought to himself, _all that remain of a force of nearly five hundred. If only we at least had some ammunition parachuted to us, more of us would remain alive._

He made a glance at his compass as he forced any more musing from his mind. Three French soldiers and twelve T'ai guerillas against the 308th Viet Minh Division were hardly fair odds.

He could hear Delage running up behind him, "We need water."

"We can't circle back to the village," Arnot said, "The Viet Minh might've poisoned the well."

"After the bastards killed every living thing inside it," Andre replied.

Arnot thought briefly about stopping the patrol for a moment. _Bad idea, I can still see the smoke if I turn around._

The only reason he'd even stopped earlier was to try and alert that aircraft, but that was a blind alley. _Let's hope that doesn't kill us all._

"Is there any other water source here?" Arnot whispered to the T'ai in front of him.

"No, _Dai Uy_ , only the village and the river," the man said.

 _If I were the Viet Minh I know where I'd be lurking,_ Arnot thought. _Some decision. A sure death by thirst or a possible by ambush._

Arnot held up his left hand, his right still gripping his submachine gun's pistol grip. The patrol stopped. With his free hand he gestured in the direction of the river. His eyes alternated between looking at his compass on occasion and around at the jungle and at the rest of the patrol.

A vicious boom and the next thing Arnot saw was the second man in line dead from the grenade shrapnel and Brossard lying on his side, his right arm bleeding.

As his hearing returned after the blast Arnot could hear Gilbert screaming in agony. The T'ai directly to his front had dropped to one knee and fired one of the four cartridges he had left in his weapon before he grabbed Gilbert by one of his webbing straps and dragged the screaming man along the ground.

 _This is it!_ Arnot thought as he dived behind a log and began to fire his own weapon in short bursts.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gilbert's rescuer setting up his carbine on top of the log and prop him up behind the weapon.

Gilbert was doing his best to return fire, despite his wound.

"Alright!" Arnot shouted over the din of whistles and gunshots, "We make our stand here. Let's take as many of these bastards with us as we can!"

As he spoke yet another partisan was cut down in a hail of bullets as he tried to run for the relative safety of the fallen tree. Where Arnot's men had to take only sure shots, the Viet Minh were free to unleash volleys of hot lead at the last survivors of G.C.M.A. _Commando D'Artagnan_ until every last one of them was shot full of holes.

He saw Andre shooting before triumphantly raising a fist and bellowing. Another gunshot rang out and Gilbert pitched backward with a hole blown through his forehead. Arnot used his remaining rounds in his submachine gun to ensure Gilbert's killer shared a similar fate.

Drawing his MAS 50 pistol, letting the submachine gun hang from its sling around his shoulder as what was left of his command was fighting at close quarters. He saw Andre brain a Viet Minh with the stock of his carbine before snapping off his last round at another.

He shot another Viet Minh that had tried to sneak up on Andre. However saving his old friend's life proved a moot point as two more Viet Minh emptied their own submachine guns into Andre.

" _Bâtards_!" Arnot roared and let both Viet Minh have a round apiece from his pistol.

All around him men were fighting at close quarters with rifle butts, fists, and knives.

A battle cry as a Viet Minh charged him, bayonet extended. Shooting two more rounds into the man. Pulling his last grenade and hurling it at another group of Viet Minh that were charging into the collapsing perimeter.

 _Three more rounds for them, and the last for me!_ Arnot thought. _I'm not letting them take me alive, like they did to Jacques._

He felt an impact collide with his right leg, dropping to one knee as a T'ai and a Viet Minh rolled around on the ground. He put his pistol to the Viet Minh's head and squeezed the trigger.

The T'ai managed to grab his rifle and followed Arnot as they ran headlong towards the river. _I'll be damned if I let them parade my corpse through the nearest town._

Two more rounds fired. The T'ai dropped to a knee to fire his last round only to be ventilated by another volley of shots.

Running towards the cliff at the edge of the river. Putting the pistol to his head. Squeezing the trigger.

Click!

 _For the love of God! Of all the times for a round_ _ **not**_ _to fire!_ Arnot thought. The sounds of screams and single shots echoed nearby as the Viet Minh finished off any wounded they encountered.

With a deep breath Arnot flung himself off the cliff and into the river. He just barely heard the splash as the cold water enveloped him. He could see the trails as bullets cut their way into the water.

Feeling himself sinking, tumbling end over end, as his vision blurred and darkness claimed him. His last thoughts were of his unit. _They. Deserved. Better._

* * *

 **Yucatan Peninsula  
** **Caribbean Coast of Mexico  
** **1 September 2008**

Rachel had spent what felt like hours searching for any possible way out of the cell. And by pure dumb luck it seemed like she had found one. Standing on top of the commode on the tip of her toes she had managed to slide a tile in the ceiling up and away.

She hoped she hadn't awakened Finn, who was currently snoring loudly outside of her cell door. She paused for a few moments before gripping the edge of the opening she had found in the ceiling. Pulling herself up as she jumped up from the commode she found herself in a crawlspace of some kind.

Adrenaline gave Rachel's arms and legs wings as she crawled through the dusty confines, sneezing all the while. It was as she groped around in the dusty dark that she literally ran into a wall.

 _Dead end._ Rachel thought, biting back a curse and rubbing the area just slightly above her hairline where she'd bumped into the wall. She looked down and noticed a chute, like some sort of drainage chute.

 _You've_ _ **got**_ _to be kidding me._ Rachel thought. Pinching her nose and closing her eyes she slid feet first down the chute.

* * *

The dark veil had passed over his eyes as Arnot came to. The first thing he was aware of was there wasn't any more shooting. _They must think I'm dead._

He swam to shore, staggering onto the bank. And then he realized he didn't recognize a damned thing. For one the stone ruins were nowhere on any map currently in his possession. Nor did he remember there being a generator running anywhere near where he was.

 _Who knows who these people might be. It might be best to stay out of sight for the time being..._ Arnot thought, _For all I know that could be a Viet Minh base camp._

Still, he shot an azimuth off of his compass and walked towards the ruins. As he did so he tucked his now useless pistol on its lanyard back into his holster. _Best stay out of sight until I know what I'm dealing with…_

The last thing he expected to encounter was the woman in the hospital gown...

* * *

Rachel rubbed her rear end after the chute deposited her rather unceremoniously onto the hard packed ground. _That could well have left a bruise._

As she stood, shakily, she felt a bit disoriented but adrenaline once again gave wings to her feet. Finn, Chow, and Ratso were probably alert to the fact that she wasn't in her cell any more.

The idea of being recaptured by them and becoming an experiment. _Forget it!_

Rachel ran out of the clearing, not caring about the grass and rocks at the soles of her feet, and the tangle of roots as she reached the jungle. Feeling vines scratching against her skin, ripping into the hospital gown's fabric occasionally.

Pushing a vine out of her way as she jumped over a log, noticing a python slithering off. _Great! Some choice! Dealing with either human predators or animal ones...Looks like my reincarnation is going to be a short one._

WHAM!

Rachel felt herself collide with something solid, and the surprised shout told her it was a person, "Gah!"

She found herself face to face with a bearded man wearing ragged and muddy green fatigues. She fell over backward, tripping over the log. Scooting backward on her haunches, reaching for something, anything to brain this guy.

" _Francais? Angleterre?_ _Américain_ _?_ " the man said, confused.

Rachel stopped. Years of working in Gotham City's District Attorney's office had taught her how to read people. Her instincts told her the gaunt, haggard fellow, though he had a machine pistol slung round one shoulder, wasn't a threat.

She could see confusion on his face, as if he hadn't expected to see her here. In all likelihood he wasn't one of the group that had held her captive. But still she didn't totally trust him.

First she had to communicate, or see if she could. Calling back on a few semesters of university French she replied, " _Parlez-vous anglais_?"

" _Oui._ I mean yes," the man replied.

"Okay," Rachel asked, "What's your name?"

"Arnot," the man replied, extending a hand to help her up, "And you?"

"Rachel," she replied as she took the proffered hand and let him help her to her feet.

"Pardon my rudeness, but what are you doing here?" Arnot asked as he indicated the jungle around him as they walked.

"Some really nasty characters kidnapped me," Rachel replied. _Better leave the whole 'brought back from the dead thing' out for now._

She gestured behind her as Arnot held up his compass, looking down the azimuth he had been walking, towards the ruins.

"I was just heading that way," Arnot replied.

"You might want to change your travel plans," Rachel quipped, managing some sort of wry grin despite herself.

"Noted," Arnot replied just as the sound of a twig snapping and footsteps could be heard.

" _Merde_ ," Arnot replied, grabbing Rachel's hand and running.

Pushing through the jungle together, jumping over the odd log or dodging around the occasional tree trunk or rock.

"Can't you shoot those guys?" Rachel asked.

"I'm out of ammunition!" Arnot replied as they stopped short of an embankment.

"Now what!?" Rachel said, glancing behind her, seeing Finn pushing through the brush behind them, Ratso and Chow not far behind.

"Can you swim?" Arnot replied.

"If I have to and…"

"Good." Arnot said and shoved Rachel off the embankment and jumped in after her.

Rachel felt the water envelop her as she kicked to the surface. She saw Arnot not too far above her, reaching down and grabbing her hand to pull her to the surface.

Sputtering water out of her mouth as Arnot began to swim. She followed him as best she could.

"Swim with the current," Arnot said, "We can get further downstream of them and get out."

It made sense, exhausting themselves and fighting the current was a surefire way to drown. But then the current began to pick up speed, "Arnot, wouldn't it be a good idea to get out now…"

"I think it's a bit late for that," Arnot replied, indicating a waterfall, "Hang on!"

Rachel shut her eyes, gripping Arnot's hand as tightly as she could as they both tumbled over the falls…

* * *

Jackie Chan glanced over the rail of the boat just in time to see two people go tumbling over the falls.

"There! There!" Jackie called over to Viper who was steering the boat.

"What did you see?" Viper asked.

"Didn't you see two people go over the falls?" Jackie said.

"No, I didn't," Viper replied.

"Neither did I," Tohru said, turning around from the left side of the boat.

"I'll turn us around to check it out," Viper said, "Tohru, Jackie, get ready to haul them aboard if they surface.

Viper gunned the engine, heading towards that deep pool that the waterfall fed into before pulling back the throttles, not wanting to hit either person Jackie had spotted.

"Steer left a little!" Jackie shouted over the engine as he saw the two people floating on the pool's surface.

 _I hope they're just unconscious and not dead from the impact,_ Jackie thought.

As they got closer he saw a woman in a torn white hospital gown as Tohru reached down and pulled her on board. Jackie reached over and grabbed the man's hand, pulling him on board and dragging him alongside the woman.

"She's breathing, just knocked out," Tohru said.

"So is he?" Jackie replied.

After he had checked that the man was breathing Jackie's trained eye noticed he wore ragged olive green fatigues with a small rank insignia and a badge of some sort. His trained eye instantly recognized the man's clothing as that of a French Army uniform. His submachine gun, pistol belt, canteen and webbing all matched military kit from the French military. But from the 1950s.

The man coughed up water and Jackie rolled him to his side, "It's okay, we're here to help you."

Tohru had reached into a box, grabbing some blankets as the woman also began to cough up water.

" _Communiste Chinois?_ " The man said as his eyes opened.

"What? I…" Jackie said as the man sat up violently and swung a punch that connected with Jackie's face, just under his right eye.

WHACK!

Tohru struck the man in the back of the head, sending him falling forward, unconscious.

"I think that was a little unnecessary, Tohru." Jackie began.

"A punch to the face isn't exactly a way to thank a rescuer," Tohru replied, "Why was he acting so hostile to you?"

"I think what he said is definitely a clue," Viper began, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, "He shouted 'Chinese Communist' before he hit Jackie."

"And he's wearing a uniform that hasn't been issued by the French Army since the 1950s," Jackie replied.

"So as strange as it sounds we're dealing with someone who's been displaced from time," Tohru said, "Some form of Chi magic maybe? In any case Uncle might be able to help."

The woman began to sit up, looking over the scene before her.

"Tohru, get us back to the safe house," Viper said, heading over to the woman.

"It's okay," Viper began, as Jackie draped a blanket across the shivering woman's shoulders, "We're not going to hurt you…"

The woman nodded and as she did so Viper couldn't help but think that she had seen her somewhere before. However that was going to have to wait until they got back to the Section 13 Safe House.

* * *

To Be Continued.

Author's Notes: The Groupement de Commandos Mixtes Aéroportés (G.C.M.A.), or Composite Airborne Commando Group, were French soldiers who armed and trained T'ai and Meo tribesmen of the deltas and mountains of Vietnam to fight the Viet Minh in 1951-1954. The G.C.M.A. often fought as teams of 2 to 3 Frenchmen among groups of about 400 tribesmen. They were a dangerous force behind Viet Minh lines throughout their period of time.

A great tragedy of the Indochina War was the fact that several of them were abandoned because of the speed of the French collapse. An anecdote from that time tells of a pilot hearing the radio call of a French soldier from the jungle below him, cursing the French for not dropping ammunition so they could die like men.

These lines from Bernard Fall's book inspired the creation of Arnot, Andre, and Gilbert: "This was a fight to the finish, and no quarter was given on either side. One by one, as the last commandos ran out of ammunition, as the last still operating radio sets fell silent, the remnants of the G.C.M.A. died in the hills of North Vietnam." - from Bernard Fall's Street Without Joy


	2. Uncles, Debriefings, and Night Terrors

Uncles, Debriefings, and Night Terrors

Author's Notes: Thank you to Hippothestrowl, from Writer's Anonymous, for helping me better write a better opening for the prologue.

* * *

 **Yucatan Peninsula  
** **Caribbean Coast of Mexico  
** **1 September 2008**

Rachel Dawes shivered as she clutched the blanket to herself, taking in the sights on the stern of the boat where she was sitting. She nodded when the woman with long black hair had assured her that they meant no harm.

She noticed the large, powerful Japanese man with the chonmage haircut wearing brown overalls and a white t-shirt driving the boat. Beside him was a Chinese man in khakis with a bruise under his right eye talking on the radio.

"Hey, are you alright?" the woman asked.

"I've felt better," Rachel said, "My name is Rachel."

"Viper," the woman said.

"What happened?" Rachel asked as her eyes flickered down towards where Arnot still was unconscious on the deck.

"Your friend and Jackie," Viper said, indicating the Chinese man with the black eye, "had a misunderstanding earlier."

"He's not my friend," Rachel replied, "We literally just met."

"Your acquaintance has a mean right cross," Viper said with a chuckle.

"And I take it Jackie knocked him out?" Rachel asked.

"No," Viper replied, "Tohru did."

"What happened?" Rachel asked.

"Evidently," Viper replied, "He mistook Jackie for a Chinese communist."

"So which half of his error was right?" Rachel asked.

"The Chinese part," Viper said.

Rachel managed a small laugh, despite herself, clutching the blanket around her body and shivering.

"We'll be at the house soon and we can get you out of that hospital gown and into something more comfortable," Viper replied, "Hopefully Uncle will be able to straighten all these things out…"

"Your uncle?" Rachel asked.

"No," Viper replied, "He's Jackie's uncle."

"Then why do you call him Uncle?" Rachel asked, "Are you and Jackie married?"

"No, we aren't," Viper replied, "But _everyone_ calls him Uncle. Trust me, when you see him you'll see why."

Rachel was about to ask why when Arnot began to sit up, groaning and rubbing the back of his head.

"Looks like sleeping beauty is awake," Viper quipped.

" _M_ _on Dieu ma tête,_ " Arnot grumbled as he sat up.

" _Détendez-vous,_ " Viper began, " _Jackie n'est pas un Communiste Chinois!_ "

"He speaks English as well," Rachel offered. _Though Viper seems to have a decent grasp of French, compared to my two semesters I took in college._

"Thanks," Viper said before turning back to Arnot, "Take it easy, we're not here to hurt you. We just saw you go tumbling over the falls."

"My thanks, _mademoiselle_ ," Arnot replied.

"So how did you guys get here?" Viper asked.

Rachel looked at her, askance, "Do you _really_ want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?" Viper replied.

"You'll think I'm insane," Rachel warned, as she hugged the blanket close to herself.

"Try me," Viper said.

Rachel sighed and recounted her story. She noticed Viper seemed a bit taken aback, but still was willing to listen to her.

"So that's where I know you from," Viper said, "Rachel Dawes, Gotham City District Attorney's office."

Rachel nodded, "Y-you're not surprised…"

"We'll figure all of that out when we get to the safehouse," Viper said, "If you say who you say you are and Valmont was involved it sounds plausible."

Rachel nodded and Viper turned towards Arnot, "What's your story."

"I'm not sure," Arnot replied, "One moment I was fighting the Viet Minh somewhere in Lao Cai Province and after jumping into the river to...er...escape them I found myself here."

 _There's some serious magic at work here if a murdered Gotham City ADA and a French soldier from the Indochina War who looks like he hasn't aged a day since the 1950s are here on this boat,_ Viper thought.

* * *

 **Section 13 Safehouse  
** **Yucatan Peninsula  
** **1 September 2008**

"Wah ha ha!" Uncle doubled over with laughter as he saw Jackie walk onto the dock with a black eye, "Jackie, you are getting slower, how did you get a black eye?"

"Our French friend over there," Jackie indicated Arnot who was bringing up the rear with Rachel and Viper, "woke up and swung a punch at me."

"One more thing, why did he attack you?" Uncle asked, raising his index finger as he spoke.

"He called me a Chinese communist and swung a punch," Jackie said as he continued towards the house.

Captain Black stood next to Uncle, quietly observing Tohru unloading a few things from the boat onto the dock and Viper quietly escorting Rachel and Arnot into the house.

He inclined his head towards the house and asked, "So those are the two people you, Tohru and Viper found floating near the waterfall, huh?"

"Yes," Jackie said, "And it seems most strange. A woman in a hospital gown and a man wearing a uniform the French Army hasn't issued in over half a century."

"I've seen the woman before, I just can't quite place her," Captain Black mused.

"An old girlfriend perhaps?" Uncle commented.

"Not really my type," Captain Black replied, "But in any case we'll need to keep those two here for the time being while we figure out who they are. They'll need to be minded of course."

"Agreed," Jackie replied, nodding at his old friend's logic.

"I'd say Viper seems to have started to build a rapport with the woman," Captain Black continued as he indicated the kitchen window where the three men could see Viper handing Rachel a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

He grinned and said, "And you can deal with our French friend, Jackie. Since you two seem to already be developing some kind of rapport."

"He punched me in the face!" Jackie protested.

"I didn't say it was a _good_ rapport," Captain Black joked.

"Alright," Jackie said, starting towards the house, "I need to get some ice for my eye, though."

"One more thing, Jackie," Uncle began, "Be sure that you get the full story from him."

"Yes, Uncle," Jackie replied and took another step towards the kitchen.

"One more thing," Uncle began.

Jackie stopped in his tracks, "Yes?"

"I think I have seen that woman on the news," Uncle said.

"Ok, what about her?" Captain Black asked.

"Her name is Rachel Dawes, and she was an Assistant District Attorney in Gotham City," Uncle replied.

"Ok, now we need to find out how she wound up all the way in Mexico wearing nothing but a hospital gown?" Captain Black replied, as he headed towards the house with Jackie in tow.

"One more thing," Uncle replied, "She was murdered by a criminal known as The Joker…"

Now Captain Black froze in his tracks, "Murdered? But then why does she look healthy and alive...no, let me guess, magic, right?"

"Yes," Uncle replied, as the three men headed back towards the house.

* * *

"Here you are," Viper said, as she led Arnot and Rachel up the stairs. There were two bedrooms, side by side. Both were on the small side with only a bed, a dresser and mirror and a bedside table with a lamp as furnishings.

Viper gestured to the room closer to the stairs, "This room is yours, Rachel. And the one to the left is yours, Arnot. There are some linens in the closet."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

" _Merci_ ," Arnot added.

"The bathroom is across the hall and we'll get you guys some clean clothes," Viper said.

"Ladies first," Arnot said, indicating the nearby bathroom.

"Thanks," Rachel said, as she took a towel from a nearby cabinet and went into the bathroom before closing the door.

* * *

Jackie stood in the kitchen for a moment, holding an icepack over the bruise on his eye. He heard Viper's soft footsteps as she entered the kitchen.

"You're going soft," Jackie joked, "I heard you walking in."

"I wasn't trying to sneak up on you," Viper said as Jackie turned to face her.

"Captain Black wants us to keep an eye on our guests for the time being," Jackie said, leaning against the side of the refrigerator as he held the ice pack over his eye.

"Let me guess he wants you to take another swing at dealing with the Frenchman?" Viper said, "Uh, no pun intended."

"And he wants you to deal with Rachel," Jackie replied.

"Okay," Viper said, "Something tells me this is going to be interesting, dealing with a former Gotham City ADA…"

"And a French soldier from the Indochina War that looks like he hasn't aged a day since the 1950s," Jackie added.

"If what Rachel was telling me was true, it looks like the Dark Hand was responsible for her resurrection," Viper replied, "She mentioned Valmont and his enforcers by name."

"We'll need to see if she can pinpoint where Valmont and his people were holding her," Jackie said.

"Yes, but in the morning," Viper said, "Let's let the poor woman get some sleep."

"Of course," Jackie said, "I didn't mean right now, but the sooner she can help us find Valmont's lab the better."

"Maybe your French friend can help too, after we debrief them," Viper replied.

"Let's hope so," Jackie said.

* * *

Rachel stood in front of the bathroom mirror, moving her hand away after wiping away the fog. She could still feel the heat from the water on her skin, wrapped in the small white towel.

 _What a night,_ Rachel thought as she looked in the mirror, barely recognizing the frightened and exhausted visage that stared back at her as her own.

She heard a knock on the door and Viper's voice, "Hey, I left some clothes for you on the bed."

"Thanks," Rachel managed to say.

 _It just seems so impossible, everything that happened? What happened to Bruce? Alfred? Mom? Harvey?_ Rachel thought, and as she did so tears welled up in her eyes. She leaned against the sink, sobbing.

After letting herself cry for a few minutes Rachel sniffled and looked up at the mirror. _I'm alive, at least. I can figure out what to do next after I get some rest…_

Rachel dropped the towel and draped a bathrobe around her body, tying the belt and walking across the hall to her bedroom. As promised Viper left her some clothes and after closing the door Rachel got dressed before lying on the bed, asleep by the moment her head hit the pillow.

It would not be a restful sleep. It would take to 250 52nd Street…

" _Hello?" Rachel called out, tugging at the ropes binding her hands and feet._

 _Silence._

" _Can anyone hear me?" Rachel shouted._

 _About the only thing she could hear was the scurrying of rats. The men in the clown costumes were long gone after they had finished tying her to the chair._

" _Hello!" She called out again, with greater desperation._

" _Rachel?" Harvey's voice._

 _Relief flooding through her, "Oh, Harvey, thank God! Are you Okay?"_

" _I'm alright...I'm in a...I'm in a warehouse. They've got me wired to these oil drums." Harvey's voice. A speakerphone with a timer below it on the floor just off to her right, counting down slowly, reading 4:54._

" _I am too," Rachel said, "Harvey…"_

 _Rachel blinked her eyes, taking in the sights around her, seeing the metal barrels, the timer, the phone, and most notably the explosive charges and wires connected to a single car battery._

" _Listen, we don't have a lot of time," Rachel began, taking in the timer's ever downward countdown, "They told me that only one of us was gonna make it…"_

 _A slight pause, "...and that they were gonna let our friend's choose."_

" _Okay, Rachel," Harvey's voice echoed back, "It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be alright. They're coming for you."_

 _She could hear the fear in his voice. Feeling the lump rising in her throat as she spoke, "Listen to me. I'll help you. Just talk me through what's going on with you. Can you find something? Anything sharp?"_

 _She could just faintly hear the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and Harvey's voice, "I'm trying."_

" _What's…" Rachel began before a curse from Harvey cut her off._

" _Shit!" Harvey grunted._

" _Harvey?"_

 _Then the sound of a thump of both a body and a barrel crashing to the floor. Her heart leapt into her throat, "Harvey, what's happening?"_

 _Nothing. Rachel's mind raced._ _ **Had he fallen and broken his neck? It couldn't have been an explosion. I would've heard it. Right?**_

 _Stammering, barely managing to speak, "What...What...What's happening?"_

 _No answer from the other side._

" _Just talk to me, just for one second," Rachel begged, as she saw 40 seconds remained in her life, barring a miracle._

 _Taking a breath and then saying, "Harvey, just in case, I wanna tell you something, okay?"_

" _Don't think like that, Rachel! They're coming for you!" Harvey said._

 _Crying now, "I know they are, but I don't want them to."_

" _I don't want to live without you. Because I do have an answer, and my answer is_ _**yes…**_ " _She shouted, pulling fruitlessly at the ropes._

 _She could hear Harvey's voice tinny over the radio's speaker, "No! No! No! NO!_ _ **Not me**_ _...Why are you coming for_ _ **me!?**_ _NO!"_

 _A brief pause as she heard the sound of struggling, and Harvey's last shouts, "Rachel! RACHEL!"_

" _Harvey…"_

" _No! No! Rachel!"_

" _Okay," Rachel said with a sob._

" _No! No!"_

 _Blinking her eyes, a moment of calm, "Harvey, it's okay. It's alright. Listen."_

 _Then the flash. The heat and fire. The shockwave. The thing that a detached and more logical part of Rachel's mind told her was killing her in her last moments…_

Rachel sat upright, heart racing. Breathing hard. Looking around the bedroom, clutching the blanket to her chest.

Shivering back into the waking world, taking in the night sky through the bedroom window she heard the sound of singing downstairs.

" _Aux armes, aux citoyens! Formez vos bataillons! Marchons! Marchons! Qu'un sang impur. Abreuve nos sillons."_

It took her a moment to realize she was hearing the lyrics of _La Marseillaise_ , the national anthem of France.

Clearly someone else in the house wasn't sleeping well either. Rachel headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs in time to see Arnot and Jackie sitting on the sofa, waving glasses as they sang.

"What the hell?" Rachel asked.

* * *

 **Sometime earlier:** _Arnot finished shaving off months of beard growth off of his face. Wiping the water away, he looked up in the mirror. His gaunt, careworn visage was joined by two others._

" _You killed us, Mon Capitaine."_

 _Turning, he saw the two apparitions: olive green military fatigues splattered with dirt, debris, and soaked with blood. He knew them. Gilbert's forehead had a bullet hole in it, blood smearing the sandy blond strands of his hair. His right arm hung loosely, broken, bones protruding from the wrist and lacerations at his side and belly._

 _With his good arm, Gilbert gestured with his hand down the front of his body, shouting, "Your fault! Your fault, mon capitaine!"_

 _He had spat out Arnot's rank as if it was a curse._

" _Your order for us to stay, mon capitaine," Andre replied, "Your fault."_

" _We put it to a vote, Andre!" Arnot countered, pointing to Andre, "And you abstained!"_

 _He saw the bullet holes through Andre's torso, courtesy of the two Viet Minh sub machine gunners emptying their weapons into him._

" _And you, Gilbert!_ _ **You**_ _agreed we should keep our word!" Arnot replied, turning on the second ghost._

" _You killed us, Arnot…" Andre replied, with that Alsatian stubbornness._

" _I hope you can live with that, mon capitaine," Gilbert said._

Arnot's eyes flew open. Blinking his eyes and realizing he wasn't going to even _attempt_ sleeping again.

He stepped out of bed, and went down the staircase towards the kitchen. After looking around through the cupboard he had found what he was looking for. A bottle of cognac, VS, an immature cognac for sure but certainly one that he could certainly appreciate right now.

After pouring himself a glass he began to drink. _My order but they paid the price. We gave our word to the T'ai that we wouldn't abandon them and…_

"Are you drinking?" a voice came from behind him.

Arnot turned and saw Jackie walking into the room, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"And anyway, that's Captain Black's cognac," Jackie began.

"It is a special occasion," Arnot replied with an ironic smile, "To being the last one to live on a mission. One where the Republic abandoned us."

"You can't mean that…" Jackie began before Arnot fixed him with a glare.

"During the war the CEFEO sent the men of the G.C.M.A. into the hills and deltas of Indochina to arm and train local tribes against the Viet Minh," Arnot began.

"CEFEO? G.C.M.A.?" Jackie asked, brow furrowing, as his mind scrambled to recall long forgotten schooling on French history from distant university courses.

"Ah, my apologies, _Monsieur_ ," Arnot replied, "The _Corps Expéditionnaire Français en Extrême-Orient_ or French Far East Expeditionary Corps."

"And the G.C.M.A. were the _Groupement de Commandos Mixtes Aéroportés,_ " Jackie added.

Arnot nodded before replying, "After the fall of Dien Bien Phu our ammunition supplies were cut off and our radio links went silent."

"But I remember the history books said CEFEO tried to issue you warnings to get to the south of 17th parallel or failing that to surrender," Jackie replied.

Arnot laughed mirthlessly as he took another slug of his cognac, "Most of us were impossibly far away, hundreds of kilometers inside hostile territory. And at any rate the Viet Minh would kill any of us who attempted to surrender to them."

Jackie wordlessly held out a glass of his own. _What harm can one drink do?_

Arnot poured him a glass, "Furthermore the majority of us had given our word of honor that we would fight alongside the tribesmen. And a lot of us did so, with fading radios and dwindling ammunition stocks we fought on as Communist hunter-killer teams closed in."

Arnot closed his eyes as he took down one more slug of his drink. Remembering losing communication with team after team. Destroyed villages where not a single living thing remained. Of friends who would never set foot in France again.

Jackie sipped at his own drink, feeling the slight fire in his belly from the cognac. Imagining what that must have been like.

Holding up his glass, "To the G.C.M.A."

Arnot nodded and held up his own glass, "To brothers I will never forget. Even if my country abandoned them."

" _Allons enfants de la Patrie, le jour de gloire est_ _arrivé_ _! Contre nous de la tyrannie,_ _l'étendard sanglant est levé,_ " Arnot began as he took another slug of his drink.

 _The Viet-Minh most certainly raised the bloody banner against us,_ Arnot thought bitterly.

" _L'étendard sanglant est levé. Entendez-vous dans les campagnes,"_ Arnot continued as Jackie took a sip out of his own glass and joined in, albeit with halting French.

 _I can at least appreciate the man's sentiment,_ Arnot thought. _Even if his French is mangled at best._

" _Mugir ces féroces soldats? Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras. Égorger nos fils, nos compagnes!_ " Arnot continued, as Jackie followed along.

" _Aux armes, aux citoyens! Formez vos bataillons! Marchons! Marchons! Qu'un sang impur. Abreuve nos sillons."_ Drunkenly both men sang, nearly at the top of their lungs.

"What the Hell?" Rachel said as she stepped down the stairs.

" _Bien soir_ , Rachel," Arnot said, "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Technically _bonjour_ ," Rachel replied, glancing at the wall clock, "It's about 1:30 in the morning right now."

"We're sorry about that," Jackie added, with a hiccup.

"How much did you have to drink?" Rachel asked, as she headed over to the living room, standing in front of both men, " _Both_ of you?"

"About most of this glass," Arnot said, holding up his glass, "I'm not too sure on Jackie's bit."

Rachel's eyes glanced at Jackie's glass, noticing it was about three-quarters full, "How many did you have?"

"My first glass," Jackie said.

" _Nous entrerons dans la carrière,_ " Arnot continued, taking down the last of his glass and pouring himself a second, " _Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus, Nous y trouverons leur poussière. Et la trace de leurs vertus."_

 _The children's verse of La Marsellaise,_ Rachel recognized.

" _Et la trace de leurs vertus."_ Arnot continued as Jackie tried to take down another sip of his drink, blinking his eyes.

 _I recognize the first line, 'we shall enter the military career',_ Rachel thought, looking over at Arnot who took another slug out of his glass, _Had he spent his entire life as a soldier?_

" _Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre, que de partager leur cercueil, nous aurons le sublime orgueil, de les venger ou de les suivre,_ " Arnot continued after yet another slug from his glass.

 _Something about elders and being keen to either avenging them or following them,_ Rachel thought to herself.

"Come on, let's get you guys back to bed before you drink that bottle dry," Rachel said.

" _Mademoiselle_ ," Arnot protested, "I am quite sober, or rather not entirely drunk."

"Not where I'm standing," Rachel replied.

Jackie tried to lift the glass to his lips, only to drop it and spill cognac down the front of his shirt and into his lap.

"Jackie could never hold his liquor," Viper said as she came down the stairs, joining them.

"Evidently," Rachel blinked as Arnot took down another slug.

"I'll get Jackie," Viper whispered to Rachel, "You take care of Arnot."

 _Okay, compared to some people I've dealt with he's not that bad, just a little drunk and singing._ Rachel thought.

"Okay, I think you do need some rest," Rachel said as she headed over to Arnot, reaching a hand out to help him up.

"It's quite alright," Arnot replied, "You did say it was morning."

"If you call an hour and some change after midnight is morning you are right, technically," Rachel said.

"So you're the daughter of a lawyer, then?" Arnot asked.

"I actually _am_ a lawyer," Rachel replied, managing to get a hold of Arnot's wrist, "Come on.."

"You are quite persuasive, _maître_ ," Arnot replied, shuffling to his feet and staggering slightly, "However sleep isn't exactly what's on my mind."

"Not on mine either," Rachel replied. _I could do without the nightmares_

"Maybe we could have a drink," Rachel offered.

"I'll pour you a glass," Arnot headed over to the still open cognac bottle.

"Not _that_ kind of drink," Rachel countered, grabbing a hold of his arm, "Maybe a cup of tea instead."

 _Though I might consider a stiff drink when I look up how things have been going in Gotham later in the morning,_ Rachel thought.

"Sure," Arnot said, as he shuffled over to the cupboard, pulling out a couple tea cups and saucers and a teapot. Going over to the sink he filled it with water and put it onto the stove.

Rachel, for her part, found the tea right away before putting a bag into each cup and sitting down at the kitchen table. Arnot headed over to join her.

"Nightmares, I assume?" Arnot asked.

"How did you guess?" Rachel replied.

"What's that expression? It takes one to know one?"

With a sigh Rachel replied, "A little awkward a metaphor, but it does sort of fit. And I assume that's part of why you were drinking?"

"More like toasting long forgotten _compagnons d'armes_ ," Arnot replied, "If that calendar on the refrigerator is to believed it has been fifty-two years."

"I can't imagine what that's like," Rachel said softly, "To be sent so far forward into the future and not know what happened to people you care about."

Arnot nodded before saying, "I do know what happened to some of them, though. Namely those of us sent into the Red River area to arm and train the T'ai tribesmen against the Viet Minh."

Rachel listened quietly as Arnot recounted his tale of the G.C.M.A., including jumping off of the cliff into the river below.

"I wasn't about to let the bastards get me alive or parade my corpse through the nearby villages," Arnot replied, mouth set in a grim line.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Arnot, but I'm glad you didn't succeed in killing yourself," Rachel said.

 _I do feel lucky to be alive, however neither Andre or Gilbert or any of the tribesmen I was fighting alongside were afforded that._ Arnot thought.

"So what's your story?" Arnot asked.

"It's about as long as yours is, minus references in French," Rachel replied.

"I do have time to hear it," Arnot replied, "As frankly I am curious how a woman wearing a hospital gown wound up in the middle of the jungle."

Rachel told her story, and it was Arnot's turn to listen quietly. A city rife with corruption. A masked vigilante. Of love for a man. Gotham's White Knight. The Joker. A dying promise. An explosion and seeing a circle of light.

Rachel noticed Arnot didn't seem skeptical at all, "You don't seem surprised."

" _Mademoiselle_ ," Arnot replied, "I got sent fifty-two years into the future when I tried to drown myself to prevent capture by the Viet Minh, I'm willing to step on a branch…"

"You mean go out on a limb," Rachel corrected.

"Yes, that," Arnot replied.

"I just hope whoever Jackie and those others work for don't think I need to see a shrink," Rachel replied.

"A shrink?" Arnot said.

"That's slang for a psychiatrist," Rachel replied as the tea kettle made the shrill whistle.

Arnot stood up, taking hold of the teapot and pouring a cup for each of them.

"Thank you," Rachel replied.

As Rachel waited for her tea to cool she saw the glossy cover of a magazine cover partially covered by some other pieces of mail. She recognized Harvey Dent on the cover straight away.

Carrying her tea cup with her Rachel walked across the room. Her heart pounding. Daring to hope. _Is Harvey still alive? It seems like it. I mean I could hear him screaming my name as someone dragged him away…_

Sliding the envelopes and other pieces of mail aside. Dropping her tea cup. Hearing it shatter against the floor, mirroring her heart shattering.

Holding the magazine in both hands, "No. This can't be...this can't be…"

"Rachel? What's wrong?" Arnot asked.

Dissolving into sobs she barely heard Arnot's footsteps as he headed over to her. Her tears blurred the words. Dropping the magazine to the floor.

She could feel Arnot throw his arms around her. Right now it didn't matter that she barely knew the man, as she broke down crying.

"Rachel?" Arnot said.

He heard nothing in reply, but more sobs. Glancing down at the floor, eyes falling on the magazine cover. It's words read: **Gotham's White Knight Murdered by the Batman.**

* * *

To Be Continued...


End file.
